


greek politicians in hell?????? what sins will they commit

by plantisnotvibing



Category: Greek Philosophy, La Divina Commedia | The Divine Comedy - Dante Alighieri
Genre: (yes she gets paid to write lams fanfiction that’s not a joke), I don’t know what this is, M/M, Wheeeee, Why did I make this again, also is supposed to be doing apush homework right now, anyway here u go, but you can’t blame me greek politicians are really interesting, do you wanna disagree with a published author? i didn’t think so, does this even count as inferno fanfiction?, i basically wrote a gay inferno fanfiction to spite my teacher, i can spout of so many random alcibiades facts and i hate it, i did too much research for this, i trust her taste tho, idk i kind of got distracted halfway through, my friend who gets paid to write lams fanfiction said it was good so i am going to believe that, oh yeah i have no sanity left in my body, ok i’m done tagging now i swear, u better like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28705254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantisnotvibing/pseuds/plantisnotvibing
Summary: The canto of the sodomites, from the perspective of a well-known sodomite.
Relationships: Dante/Virgil (La Divina Commedia), Socrates/Alcibiades
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	greek politicians in hell?????? what sins will they commit

**Author's Note:**

> i hope my english teacher cannot sleep tonight because of this 
> 
> (also yeah i’m aware alcibiades would prob be in a different place because of all his Treason™ but let me have this)

Alcibiades choked down another scream as his feet ran over the scorching sand. The skin on the bottom of his feet had been long ago seared off by the blazing desert underneath them, which he was destined to trod on for the rest of eternity. Unsightly blisters and burns branded the bodies of everyone present. 

His mind only saved itself through temporarily distracting thoughts of his past life. Despite what his decisions in life led him to, he still had no real regrets. Perhaps the small choices, but not what he was supposed to be here for. He was long past the stage of bitterness, but he still would never agree with his unjust placement here. 

Suddenly emerged two figures from the dust, their faces unrecognizable and their statures considerably different from the party with whom he surrounded himself. One of the men’s presence was encircled by a strange atmosphere, a sort of tangibility Alcibiades hadn’t witnessed for hundreds of years. The stranger’s soul seemed to mimic that of a living person’s. The thought in and of itself was ridiculous, but he found himself toying with the idea. A _living soul _. Why would it be here, of all places? It was rather absurd, to be frank. He tossed the notion away; no, it was likely yet another grouping of souls coming to join their punishment.__

__The two men were approached by a few members of their group—they called themselves Florentines, if he wasn’t mistaken? None of them were faces familiar to him, but he remained as intrigued as before._ _

__His gaze moved to the other side. Socrates sprinted side by side with him, who seemed as enraptured with the group as all the others were._ _

__Socrates, his lover. One of them, at least._ _

__Only one of the many people he was here for._ _

__Their relationship had begun unlike any of his others. He expected it to be an ephemeral love affair, but was caught off guard by the philosopher’s refusal to comply with any of his romantic advances on their first evening together. A flame of intrigue lit in his heart, and they carried on from there. No matter how many lovers he collected, they were all put to shame by the sagacious Socrates. They seemed to be the opposite sides of the same spectrum—with Alcibiades as the extravagant, sex-driven nymphomaniac and Socrates as the carefully-moving scholar—but something about them worked out in its own strange way. Socrates was the man he respected the most in the world, and he wouldn’t rather spend this eternity of torture with anyone else._ _

__“Do you believe that they are... you know... entangled?“ Alcibiades inquired, turning his vision back to the strangers._ _

The comment, contrary to how it might have seemed, wasn’t completely unfounded. He had lived a long life filled with romance, affairs, courtesans, and symposiums—the entire business of love came to him like second nature. It only took a few moments of observation to determine the distinct bond between the two. The first one seemed to rely on the other. He kept looking back towards the other for help in choosing his words, and Alcibiades noted the obvious respect between the pair. 

Socrates paused in thought. That was something he had always admired about the man—his thoughtfulness. He never said anything without intention dripping from each word. 

“A hastily drawn conclusion is likely a faulty one,” he said. “We cannot be too impulsive in our deductions.”

Alcibiades supposed the man was correct. Still, he wasn’t able to shake his observation. What else could that bond between them be?

His head snapped to the side as an unknown man let out a yelp. He seemed to be one of the newer arrivals, one still not used to the environment yet. Not as if any of them would ever truly get used to it, no matter how many hundreds of years they’d been trapped here for. The pain never took a second to pause its torment; with no way to lessen it, the only option was to keep running. 

The only ones exempt from the pain seemed to be the unbothered pair that had just arrived. The usual reaction from new arrivals was the plaguing screams towards their excruciating torture, but neither of them had done anything remotely close to such. 

Could his prior assumption have been correct? A living soul in Hell was unprecedented as far as he was aware, but he wasn’t sure if it was completely erased from the possibilities. 

Alas, to his displeasure, the group was too far removed from his vision to observe more of what was going on. 

Even if he couldn’t find out more about this aberration, it was something different. Alcibiades despised mindless routines with every part of his soul; being stuck in the same cycle for too long made him restless, which was merely one of the reasons why his punishment hurt just that much more. 

He was grateful for the smallest break from the pattern. 

Most of all, no matter how selfish he was, he hoped he wouldn’t have to see the men down here again.

**Author's Note:**

> are they.... you know


End file.
